Suspicion
by clueless in seattle
Summary: Bodies are turning up all over New York and Alex is getting concerned about Bobby's reaction to the case...


_**Disclaimer:**__All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them stems from my fond admiration (and a few personal quirks I will seek "help" for)._

_**AN:**__ This story is not set within the accepted "canon" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. So I get to "fool around" with them in ways in which they've never been seen, stretching that to the limit and suspending the "reality" that is "fiction" to start with…now there's a contradiction in terms!!! _

_(And yeah Goren I know the proper word for that is oxymoron…oh you can move…I was beginning to think your ass must be glued to that couch…)_

_**Alex begins to have worrying thoughts about Bobby…**_

**SUSPICION**

Alex Eames was tired. Bodies were turning up all over New York and the only thing the victims seemed to have in common was that they were all members of same graduating class from a local High School. That and certain mutilations on the corpses that indicated, according to her partner Bobby Goren, someone with a highly repressed and perverse sexual urge that had taken years to come to the surface.

It was not only a nasty case but a rather awkward one too. Because the High School and class in question happened to be Bobby's own and the first victim, his prom date. Needless to say some of those who were not Bobby's greatest fans were starting to whisper some horrible things about him. Implying he should be considered a suspect and suggesting there were aspects of his character fit the profile for the killer.

Eames was sure it was just the usual jerks. The cops who resented Bobby's fast track promotion, his clear up rate and the fact he could always be relied on to spot some clue, or have some obscure insight would lead to a solution. Except, once someone puts an idea into your head, it's hard to forget it and there had been times today she had wondered herself. Found herself sneaking looks at Bobby as they went through all six floors of the abandoned and derelict warehouse, with a CSI team and several uniforms.

The class valedictorian, or most pieces of him anyway, was on the fourth floor and it was one of those occasions when Bobby's rather detached attitude to a corpse seemed more _"weird"_ than _"professional"_. As she got changed after a shower and went to find something to eat in the icebox, Eames tried to dismiss it. Put it down to her slight irritation with him over the way the search ended up. Whilst she was paddling through puddles with a distinct smell of urine looking for a murder weapon, Bobby appeared to be standing back almost admiring some of the graffiti covered most of the walls.

As she and others turned over trash, drug paraphernalia and enough used condoms to fill several dumpsters; her partner seemed to be taking notes of some of the messages written on the walls of the stairwells. And sent to investigate a smell Bobby detected, it was her had the pleasure of disturbing a small herd of rats that quit gnawing on the decomposing body of a dog. Only to see him apparently copying numbers from behind one of the doors. Numbers, when she checked later seemed to offer an explicit and scary number of services of the sexual and chemical kind.

When her phone rang she picked up "Alex Eames"

"Oh…um…hi" said a familiar voice, though since you had to assume he dialled her number, Eames always wondered why Bobby sounded mildly surprised when she answered.

"Hello it's the tooth fairy" she said "Please leave your incisor after the tone"

"P-p-pardon?"

"Never mind. Forget it" Eames said not inclined to waste the time it would take to explain it. "What can I do for you Bobby?" she asked still slightly irritated with him after the events of the afternoon.

"I…um…I'm sorry to bother you Eames" he sounded distracted though who knew what by. "I…er…just…well I realised I've got something of a problem…and…um…I thought I should ring you"

"Does this have to do with the case?"

"Yeah" Bobby's breath on the other end sounded a little short and ragged. "It's about this afternoon"

Eames assumed that on reflection, Bobby realised he'd not exactly carried his end of the log on that search. Left her to trawl through some pretty disgusting detritus while he copied down numbers like _"1-800-ORALFUN" _and _"Dial-a-Dealer"._ That Bobby was now embarrassed and about to stumble through an apology would be humiliating for him. Not because he wouldn't mean what he was saying, but because Bobby would take a lot of convincing it was sufficiently abject.

"Forget it Bobby" she said kindly. "Not easy to keep your focus when it's a friend lying there with his…well…not easy"

"Doug wasn't a friend" he muttered. "Couldn't stand the guy Eames. Bullied me all through middle school"

"Oh" she said, "I didn't realise. Even so losing a group of people you knew like Cindy and that guy Tom"

"I'll tell you something about my prom date Eames" said Bobby softly. "When I returned from getting her some fruit punch I eventually found her making out in the janitors closet. With Tom"

Eames swallowed hard. "You never mentioned that before Bobby"

"What!" he snorted rather strangely. "And admit I might have had a motive for killing the victims? That I had could have harboured some sort of demented grudge all these years? Some kind of festering malice that I finally acted on?"

"Bobby?" said Eames a little hesitantly. "Did you…I hate myself for asking this but…did you have a problem with…any of the others?"

"More unresolved teenaged issues you mean?" Bobby muttered. "Not really. Not unless you count Jerry breaking my arm on the football field and Ken also being outside the janitors closet waiting his turn the night of the prom. A line, I might add, Cindy told me I was wasting my time joining"

Eames felt her legs starting to shake a little as she realised every one of the victims had hurt Bobby in some way or other. She sat down hard on the couch, unable to bring herself to ask about his relationships with the still living members of his class.

"Anyway that's not what I called about" Bobby went on. Then after a slightly breathy pause he said "Eames? What are you wearing right now?"

She almost dropped the phone "Don't be foolish Bobby?"

"I'm not being foolish" he said in a tone that was rather loud and then demanding. "I asked what you are wearing. I really need to know. It's important"

Her hands were shaking now as Eames thought rapidly. Bobby was obviously having some kind of break down. As revolting as it was, perhaps if she could keep him talking, let him work through the temporary mania he seemed to be in she could save someone's life. Give him what he seemed to want, distract him and then when he was off the line make the hardest call she ever had to make.

In effect hand over her partner, her friend, the guy she trusted her life with so many times and the man she was a little in love with, as the possible _"High School Killer"_. She tried not to think of the sort of Bobby who must be on the end of the line now as she heard his breath a little short and ragged again. Wild eyed, driven but at least still with sufficient grip on himself to call her, try and keep a tenuous hold on his murderous rage and the twisted sexuality must lie somewhere in his make up.

She tried to think of the quiet, gentle Bobby she'd always seen. The slightly shy Bobby who was behind that sharp and incisive mind. The rather sophisticated Bobby with great taste, who hid behind that large, almost _"untidy"_ frame and played _"village idiot"_ so well when it suited. Think of the one she had occasionally imagined. The Bobby who would be a tender, patient yet still demanding lover. The Bobby knew his way around the block, but took his time getting there and would leave you unsure at the end whether he was either a very gifted virgin or a coy gigolo.

Eames closed her eyes not to see the paint spotted pair of old cargo pants and a pyjama jacket with teddy bears on, missing at least one button and with the rest ill matched. And forget that thanks to work her laundry had piled up. Meaning her underwear was now down to the ancient _"emergency supply"_ stuffed at the back of a drawer. A safety pin holding together her bra and panties her mother would be ashamed of, if she were ever admitted to hospital wearing them.

She took a deep breath and said softly "Well Bobby. My jeans are _Sass and Bide_. One of the narrow fit styles. Make my legs seem very long. In a totally delicious grey they call anthracite. Kind of tight round the ass but I like to think it's not just the pants responsible for it's shape. Black stitching details round the pockets"

Eames heard a slight intake of breath on the other end of the line. As horrible as this was it made her slightly shiver for another reason "Would you like me to go on?" she purred softly.

"Uhuh" 

"My top is by _Chloe_. Do you like _Chloe_ Bobby?"

"Can't say I ever met her" he growled. "Is it the one you wore earlier? That pink thing?"

"No Bobby" she soothed "It's much tighter, closer fitting than that. Really clings to my body and has a deep V neck down to right between my breasts"

Eames could hear Bobby's short breathy sounds in her ear, of the kind she had sometimes fantasised about him making.

"Of course my underwear is _La Perla_" she took a deep breath herself. "Last summer's range. The bra with the lace edging to the cups and of course my panties…at least what there is of my panties…match. Animal print Bobby. Leopard…grrr…makes me feel like an animal…though I have others you might enjoy Tiger. And the lace is black. Soft narrow lace, which feels wonderful over my hips"

"So you're not wearing that coat you had on this afternoon Eames?" he was panting rather hard now.

"No but I can go put it on if you want me to"

"Aaargh! No" Bobby yelled, "No don't do that Eames!" he ordered her sharply. "That's why I called. When I got home I realised my overcoat was hopping with lice and ticks must have been jumping off that dead dog. I had to take it down in the alley and fumigate it with a smoke bomb. You probably need to do the same with that coat of yours otherwise your closet will be crawling with the things"

"Aaaaaargh" screamed Eames as she flung the phone across the room, not sure herself if it was because of humiliated mortification or possible infestation.

Bobby jerked his own receiver away from his ear just before the drum shattered and tossed it aside. Re-started his treadmill and wondered just how much Eames had to drink before he called. As he panted and began to work up a sweat, his mind turned to Mr Frank Dawson. Their old home room teacher at High School. He was detained a few years back as a total sociopath it turned out. _Perhaps he was out of the institution or escaped?_ Certainly a lead worth following up tomorrow…

_**AN**__ Oh come on…purleese…don't try telling me if Bobby called and asked you that question you wouldn't do exactly the same thing Alex did…_


End file.
